The Ungrateful Child

 •  5 min. read  •  grade level: 11
 
Some years since, a little boy, named E— was placed under the writer’s care.
From a babe he had been brought up by some friends who lived a long distance from his mother; and as the duties of her situation were of such a nature that they could not often be delegated to others, she seldom had the opportunity of seeing him. The consequence was, that he grew up in almost utter ignorance of the one by, whom he was much beloved, and who well deserved, and ought to have had his love in return.
She fondly hoped, as he became older, to succeed in winning his affections; and to this end, as soon as he was able to read and write, she commenced a correspondence with him. But though her letters breathed nothing but affection, apart from what they contained, it gave him no pleasure to receive them, and his replies were written in such a brief and heartless manner that they were scarcely worth reading. Indeed, after he had thanked her for pocket-money, which she so frequently sent him, he seemed to have nothing to add, as though, while he valued her gifts, he had little or no love for the giver. Often would she plead with him in the kindest possible manner and ask for a long letter or beg that he would write more frequently; but it was all in vain. And, when at her request the writer sought to awaken within him the claims of a mother’s love, and urged him to do what he knew would give her joy, so feeble was the response, that if aroused for the moment to consider his obligations, he soon relapsed into his former state, and became as indifferent as before.
Had it been for want of ability, there would have been some excuse; but it was not so. The lack of filial affection was the sole cause of his apathy, nor was it to the writer’s knowledge ever removed. Poor fellow! after blighting all his mother’s hopes, and disappointing all her expectations, he sank into an early grave.
It is to be hoped that none of the youthful readers of “Young Christian” are like the subject of the foregoing narrative; but the moral instruction that may be obtained from it is well worthy the attention of young believers, and even older ones may profit by it. If “ye are all the children of God by faith is Christ Jesus, “you are, as such, the objects of a love far exceeding that of E—’s fond mother; for its height, and depth, and length, and breadth pass knowledge. Now it is the will of God concerning you that the love wherewith you are loved should so fill your minds and occupy your thoughts that you might never forget the intimacy of the relationship into which you have been brought; and unless you do realize the tenderness of the tie by which your Father’s love has bound you to Himself, that love, so to say, will be lost upon you, and get little or no response from you. You may indeed value God’s unspeakable gift so far as deliverance from hell is concerned, but without a close and constant walk with God, the giver of His own Son, you will be like the ungrateful child who, because he knew so little of his mother, was unable to appreciate her love, and whom so many believers in our day resemble. From first to last they are so fearfully selfish that they think of nothing else but their own salvation and comfort; they never enter into the happy thought that God has His own joy and delight in them, and that He rejoices over them; nor do they know Him as the One who ought to be the source of all their joy, the object of their unceasing meditation, and whose desire is that they should be so habitually near Him as to hear the very whispers of His love and to be guided by His eye. O, if the mother of the ungrateful child was sorely pained when she found that she could not win the affections of her dear little E— as she was wont to call him, who need wonder at the touching language addressed by God to Israel when they would have none of Him, and forgot Him “days without number”? Surely the words, “O, my people, what have I done unto thee? Wherein have I wearied thee?” proclaim in language that cannot be mistaken that His soul was deeply grieved when the objects of His everlasting love slighted Him and disregarded His voice.
Guard then, beloved readers, against a distant walk from God; for the farther you live from Him, the more scanty and imperfect will be your knowledge of Him. The sweet confidence and simple trust which become you “as dear children” will be unknown; you will have no “joy in God” nor any more delight in “the word of His grace,” than E— had in the perusal of his mother’s letters; and if you keep up a form of prayer it will be cold and irksome, and almost as breathless as death itself. And though the pleadings of infinite, tender, and unchanging love may arouse you for a moment to “consider your ways”, and the thought that there has been nothing in the Lord’s dealings with you but kindness from beginning to end awaken within you the sense of your ungrateful returns, you will soon recede into your former condition, and be content to live days and weeks without communion with God, unless you learn to make the Lord Himself the source of your delight and contemplation, and to know Him as the One who is infinitely more to you than all gifts He has bestowed upon you.